


constant as a northern star

by scullystarling



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Episode: s05e04 Detour, Post-Episode: s07e19 Hollywood A.D., Post-Movie: The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008), Post-Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29547132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullystarling/pseuds/scullystarling
Summary: five times mulder and scully got coffee.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	constant as a northern star

**Author's Note:**

> i've always loved little gestures of intimacy within relationships, various love languages etc. and i think a lot of msr is built on the little things, those quiet moments that hold so much weight (particularly in the earlier seasons). so here's what i tried to do with that. 
> 
> a major thanks to stelgibson and jeanmilburns_jeans for the beta, support, and friendship <3

“People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you can stand in front of them bare and their response is ‘you’re safe with me’ - that’s intimacy.” Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

i.

It begins with a simple, “how do you take your coffee?” He’s all calm and collected. Standing tall and confident at the small, makeshift coffee area. The ‘coffee area’ in question; an old coffee pot placed haphazardly on a small table in the corner of the room. Stir sticks and sugar packets from Splenda to Sweet ‘N Low, along with room temperature coffee creamers; scattered across its surface. The sound of fluorescent lights, buzzing faintly from the hallway as silence hung in the air.

There is something intriguing about it, she thinks. Being relegated to the basement office; the cool, dimly lit, organized chaos of it all. The two of them, cordoned off from the rest of the bureau.

There was also something intriguing about _him_.

She’d heard whispers in her days at the academy. From those who scoffed to those who admired. Though the former really outweighed the latter. The admiration, essentially nonexistent.

Now, she watched him move about the room. Question after question buzzing through her mind to the point where she was unsure of where to begin.

“Just black is fine,” is her reply. Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear as she shifts in her seat, studying the various news clippings and photos that adorn the walls. Raising an eyebrow at the headlines claiming sightings of extraterrestrials. All the while, maintaining her calm, collected exterior.

She had assumed that his mention of her thesis earlier would’ve been the end of it, but no such luck. He prodded her with questions. Why Einstein’s twin paradox? And while she had answered him logically and truthfully, she became filled with a newfound sense of excitement and glee. She liked to be questioned by him, challenged by him.

So, she countered with questions about his time at Oxford and onward. Not quite ready to delve further into extraterrestrials at the moment, but still looking for ways to challenge him at every turn.

An unexpected turn came when her bright blue eyes drifted upwards, inadvertently spotting various pencils stuck to the ceiling. The corners of her mouth curving upwards into a playful smirk.

“Gotta do something to pass the time,” he says, shrugging noncommittally. Reaching into the bag of sunflower seeds on his desk. Unshelling a few, then popping them into his mouth, tossing the shells aside.

Now, he stands before her, two steaming hot cups of coffee in hand. One for her, the other for himself. A gesture of kindness after a day chock-full of unknowns and uncertainties.

She extends a hand, reaching for it. Steam billowing out of the small, styrofoam cup.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. Taking a sip of the hot liquid. Feeling it trickle down her throat, filling her with warmth.

She studies him, moving about the office, completely at ease. Watches him take a seat at his desk and open a file. He pauses and his eyes drift up, catching her gaze. Blue and hazel, meeting. Causing her heart to beat a little faster and a slight blush to spread across her cheeks.

He smirks, and his eyes fall back to the page. She takes a generous sip of coffee and wonders what, ticking through the numerous unanswered questions, lay in store. But for now, she simply sits and enjoys the coffee, the quiet, and his presence.

ii.

Her eyes are bleary and her body aches. The previous night of “sleeping” on the forest floor, finally taking its toll as she leans her head back into the headrest of the rental car. Finally allowing her eyes to flutter shut as she waits for him to return. The sound of rain tapping lightly on the windshield and the occasional car speeding by, quickly lulling her into a state of unconsciousness.

She’s certain that she’s only been out for a few minutes when she hears him attempting to wake her. Softly saying her name as he gently brushes his fingers across her cheek.

She feels herself smiling before she opens her eyes. Relishing the feeling of his touch. Her heart fluttering in her chest. Longing to draw the moment out. She emits a soft sigh and slowly allows her eyes to drift open. He smiles at her and she bites her lip.

“I got you a coffee. Figured you might need it,” he says, chuckling softly as he hands her the cup.

She nods appreciatively, quickly taking a long-awaited sip, ignoring the scalding heat of the beverage.

“Thanks, Mulder,” she says, still somewhat sleepily. Her voice; warm, sweet, and slow like honey.

She watches him, opening the lid to the somewhat burnt tasting coffee. The vibrant green of the trees whipping past them as they drive. He fiddles with the dial on the radio, moving from station to station. Listening to only a few seconds of each song, before becoming restless and turning the dial once more.

The familiar tune of ‘Friday I’m in Love’ by The Cure, fills the small space of the car. He’s about to change it when she reaches out to stop him. Their hands brushing up against one another, shockwaves of electricity emanating between them.

She gently clasps her fingers over his, “leave it. I love this song.”

“Didn’t know you were a fan of The Cure, Scully,” he says, eyebrows raised questioningly. Eyes bright, as a mischievous grin danced across his face.

“Well, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Mulder.”

He turns his head to look at her and they share a brief look before he returns his attention to the road.

All at once and without thinking, she reaches her hand out and places it atop his. Resting it there as he relaxes under her touch. The two of them, fitting together with the utmost ease.

She steals one more brief glance at him, then turns her attention to the road ahead. Quietly humming along to the music, their hands intertwined. Nothing but an empty highway and hours stretched out before them, belonging solely to them.

iii.

She wakes to sunlight peeking through the curtains of his hotel room. Her body curled up in a mess of bedsheets. The dress that she had splurged heavily on, strewn on the floor beside her. She sits up slowly, sated and glowing.

Thinking back to the night before, their bodies tangled up in each other. The loud moans of pleasure she didn’t attempt to suppress, escaping her mouth as she came. Not caring if others heard. She wanted them to know how good it was. How good he made her feel, the way he took care of her.

Later that night, as he sleeps, she lays half-awake, watching him. His calm, sleeping form; at peace with the world. Slowly and steadily, breathing in and out. Eyelids fluttering every so often, in a blissful, dreamlike state. And she can’t resist reaching out and softly stroking his cheek, delicately tracing her way along his finely sculpted features. The feeling of exhaustion, eventually overtaking her, gazing at him one last time before drifting into unconsciousness.

She is brought back to the present upon hearing the low tone of his voice, speaking quietly to someone on the other side of the door.

She yawns and stretches, running a hand through her dishevelled hair as he enters the room. A silver tray, filled to the brim with food and drink. He’s grinning from ear-to-ear as he places it on the bed, climbing in next to her.

“Mulder, what is all this?” She asks, eyes wide.

“Wow Scully, for an FBI agent, I thought you’d be a little more perceptive,” he says jokingly. Catching her eye and winking.

She rolls her eyes and playfully hits him on the arm. “ _Mulder_ , seriously, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing a soft pink hue.

“It’s no trouble, Scully. We both need to eat. And no one deserves to be fed from a silver platter more than you,” he says. Leaning in and kissing her tenderly. He smells of aftershave and tastes like mint toothpaste. Enveloping her and filling her with warmth and comfort.

The two of them, melting into each other and savouring the kiss until he eventually pulls away. Removing the carafe of coffee from the tray, pouring them each a cup.

“Well, as long as it’s on the company credit card,” she says. The intoxicating aroma filling her senses, as she reaches for the bowl of fruit and nibbles on a strawberry.

“Courtesy of Walter Skinner,” he replies. Causing them to burst out laughing.

Their breakfast is scattered with conversation, between bites of oatmeal and her stealing the occasional bite of his omelette. Their bodies pressed against one another, as close as humanly possible. The glow of the late morning sun, illuminating the room and casting its warm light on them.

After they’ve finished their meal and showered, together. Both coming hard and fast as the rapid beads of water roll down their bodies. Then relaxing into each other, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of the moment until the water runs cold.

They both putter around the room. He moves quickly, tossing his things in a small duffel bag. While she takes her time, meticulously folding, ensuring it all goes in its proper place. The same way they’ve packed and repacked for the last seven years. Having now gotten it down to a rhythm, moving about the space in quiet synchronization.

They do one final scan of the room and he takes her hand in his, leading her out the door.

“Ever join the mile high club, Scully?” He asks, his voice low in her ear. Leaning in dangerously close. The tone of his voice setting her entire being on fire.

She laughs and shakes her head, folding into him, burying her face in his chest. “No, but I’m very open to joining,” she says, big blue eyes, gazing up at him lustfully.

vi.

After driving for three hours, they decide to pull over at a small diner. A little dive in God-knows-where Arizona. The hot, relentless sun beating down on them as they exit the car. Wordlessly entering the diner, his hand on the small of her back as a waitress motions for them to select a table.

She slides into a booth, taking a menu from their server as he orders them both a coffee. Running her hands through her long, unwashed hair as she studies the menu, sighing. She needs a shower. Well, she needs a lot of things, she thinks, as she continues to listlessly scan the items. Fully well knowing she’ll order the same as always. But she needs something to distract herself. Distract her from the gaping hole in her chest. Distract her from thinking about their son.

They sit in silence, and she can feel his eyes on her. His gaze; somber and concerned. But she doesn’t look up. Doesn’t want to face him yet. Instead, she concentrates on a small stain on the menu. A brief reprieve as her thoughts drift elsewhere.

She is vaguely aware of having mechanically ordered her meal, but it's not until it's placed in front of her that she's brought back to reality. The steaming hot bowl of oatmeal, waiting to be consumed.

She forces herself to eat. Slowly making her way through the bowl. Watching the cars outside speed past them, catching the occasional glance at those inside. Wondering who they are and where they’re going. Praying they won't ever have to endure the heartache they’ve lived through. That they _are_ living through.

She is cognizant of him making small talk and asking her a few questions. And she’s aware of nodding or shaking her head in reply, but she can’t bring herself to do more than that.

She brings the cup of, now, lukewarm coffee towards her chapped lips and takes a sip. The bitter liquid sliding down her throat, offering minimal comfort. She finally brings her eyes up to meet his, and they’re filled with such heavy sadness it takes all of her strength not to break down right there. Instead, she inhales a sharp breath and returns her gaze to the highway.

After a long, heavy silence. She removes one of her hands from its tight grip around the cup, taking his hand and squeezing it. He squeezes back and she daringly tears her eyes away from the road.

“I love you,” he says gently. His eyes soft, and sympathetic, laced with the same overwhelming sadness that she is certain she’s mirroring back at him.

“I love you too,” she replies without hesitation. Her voice, no louder than a whisper.

v.

She walks slowly, still half asleep, down the stairs of the Unremarkable House. Clad in a pair of purple pyjamas, long red hair, cascading down her back.

The late November wind howls outside as fallen leaves drift about the property. She silently makes her way towards the kitchen table and sits. The sound of the chair moving against the hardwood, alerting him of her presence.

She radiates a sun-kissed glow. New freckles, scattered across the bridge of her nose from their recent vacation. She is a vibrant contrast to the monotony that currently fills their outdoor surroundings.

He smiles at her and turns back around to finish the task at hand. Seconds later, turning around, a plate of pancakes topped with fresh fruit, and a cup of coffee in hand. Placing it on the table in front of her.

She softly thanks him and lets her mind wander as she waits for him to join her. Picking at the fruit on her plate.

It hasn’t all been easy. Getting back together. Some days they seamlessly slip back into their old routines and mannerisms. The raising of an eyebrow or a quizzical smirk. His hand on the small of her back, fitting perfectly, as it always did. The way he would trace the freckles scattered along her face and body, as if mapping the stars. How her nose scrunched adorably when he would tell one of his jokes, sending her into a giggling fit of laughter. And the way that he had to lean down to kiss her in order to meet her tiny frame. Her returning the kiss; fully and passionately. Their tongues exploring each other, as if for the first time.

On others, however, it's quite the opposite. The house, seeming to emanate an overbearing quietness. A thick fog of sadness that loomed over them as the ghosts of their past crept about. It’s inevitable, she thinks. After all they’ve been through.

There was a part of her that still worried about the darkness. Worried that it would find them. Try as she might to push those fears aside, they were still there, lying dormant. Waiting to consume her in a moment of doubt. She wanted to allow herself to truly feel everything for once. All of the happiness and excitement that being with him brought. Feel it all without fear.

And she wants him. Wants to be with him. To come home to him after a long day at the hospital. Tired eyes, tired body, ready to drop, and fall into the comfort of his arms. The place she’s always fallen to so easily.

She’s missed him. Almost too much. Spent too many nights while on her own, tossing and turning. Waking in the middle of the night, roused from a dream and instinctively reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed empty. The sheets cool and unused.

Now, when she wakes in the middle of the night, she’s immediately met with the comfort of his arms around her, holding her close. His breathing, slow and steady. And she feels safe.

“Scully?” He asks. Bringing her out of her quiet contemplation.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” she replies softly. Bringing the coffee to her lips, pausing and holding it there. Breathing it in as she warms her hands.

“Anything you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing in particular, just glad to be back,” she says, reaching out and taking his hand.

“Glad to have you back,” he replies. Voice full of warmth and adoration as he takes hold of her hand, squeezing it tightly.

He doesn’t need to say anything more, because she knows. After all these years, she can read him better than anyone. Just as he can, her.

Their eyes meet, heavy with emotion. And she’s sure she’s made the right choice. She'd found her way home.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. <3


End file.
